Yesterday, my hometown paper ran a profile of my father, discussing the fact that he is a giant in the field of civil rights law. I already knew this.
What I didn’t already know was that he had already argued and won his first case before the United States Supreme Court by the time he was my age.
I called him to ask about this and he said the article had gotten it slightly wrong, and that he’d won the case not at age 29 but at age 30 (and four months).
This gives me six months to do more for the downtrodden and oppressed than most people manage to do in their entire lives.
Not that this made me feel inadequate or anything.
I’m sure that fucking the downtrodden and oppressed must count on some level…
Following up on Adam’s comment, you did mean, “…six months to do more downtrodden…,” didn’t you?
The downtrodden and oppressed, they can be oh so charming and sexy at times.
hmm and by the time my dad was my age he had left my mother for another woman (and then he came back but he still left her)